


Sansa Queen

by LesbianDaensa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: #Sansaweek, Gen, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 02:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16317794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianDaensa/pseuds/LesbianDaensa
Summary: "'Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa', Jon said."How season 6 should have ended.





	Sansa Queen

**Author's Note:**

> This is for prompt one of #Sansaweek on Tumblr, Queen.  
> A lot of Lyanna's speech is taken from the episode "Battle of the Bastards".

Ramsay missed Rickon just long enough for Jon to pick him up and swing him onto his horse. Across the field, Sansa saw him throw down his bow and curse. Jon galloped back and dismounted, clutching Rickon tightly to his chest. He swung himself down and then carefully, so carefully lifted Rickon down as well.  
Sansa's breath caught and despite her best attempts she felt tears fill her eyes. Her baby brother was alive and mostly well in front of her. She thought she'd never see him again.

But Jon was so angry and didn't listen to her. He charged and his men followed, and they're all almost killed.  
And then the Valemen blew their horns and Sansa felt a wonderful sense of relief. Lord Baelish arrived with his men, and the Bolton army was crushed. Sansa had never felt so satisfied in her life. But she sobered quickly as she remembered it wasn't over yet. Ramsay and his men retreated to Winterfell and Jon went to finish the battle.  
Jon! She hoped nothing bad has happened to him… She couldn’t lose any more siblings. No, she couldn't think of that. Jon was a wonderful warrior and he would be fine.  
“Rickon, is it alright if we go back to Winterfell? I need to make sure Jon is okay.” He nodded quietly, and Sansa mourned her bold little brother and hoped he comes back. They've all been changed so much.  
She gathered Rickon into her arms and galloped towards Winterfell, not allowing hope to bloom in her chest, not daring to think this nightmare may be over.

They arrived just in time to see Jon punch Ramsay's ugly face in, over and over again. Rickon let out a gasp- out of surprise or fear Sansa couldn't tell- and Jon looked up, his face covered in mud and blood and other awful things. He looked to Sansa for guidance- after all, it was mostly on her behalf that he was doing this- and she nodded. Jon got up and ordered: “Drag this wretch to the dungeons-” ”No, not the dungeons, the kennels”, she interjected. 

Jon looked at her uncertainly. He wasn’t quite sure of what those kennels meant to Sansa, but he'd heard a bit of what happened to Theon. He knew they were a site of a lot of horror, and was a bit hesitant to have his baby sister anywhere near that monster, no matter how grown up now she may be.  
But he trusted her, and so he nodded at his men. “Do as she says. Bring him to the kennels.” 

 

Later, after it was over and Ramsay is dead, Sansa returned to her room, her old bedroom from when she was an innocent girl. She stopped in the doorway, caught up in memories of happier times, when her family was alive and together.  
She slowly walked forward, trailing her fingers over the bedclothes, lost in thought.  
A servant girl knocked on the door, startling her. Sansa whirled around and looked for something to defend herself. If Ramsay is back- “Milady? Jon Snow has requested your presence in the Great Hall. There's to be a great feast honoring the soldiers from the Vale.” “Thank you, I'll be there soon”, Sansa answered distractedly. 

She brushed and rebraided her hair, and then entered the Great Hall, determinedly ignoring memories of what happened the last time she was in here. She headed up to the long table at the front where her family always used to be, and sat in between Jon and Rickon.  
A great clamor started up, as it always does at feasts like this, and Sansa welcomed it. She basked in the warmth from the fires and her brothers, content in the knowledge that at least two of her family members were safe, as are her home and her people. 

And then the men started arguing, of course, about the Wildlings and that they want to go home. Jon stood up and started talking about the Night King, again. Sansa briefly contemplated stabbing out her eyes with her fork, and then little Lyanna Mormont got up and Sansa tensed slightly.  
Her comments from earlier hadn't been forgotten, but Lyanna was barely twelve years old after all. Or was she eleven? Sansa wasn’t sure, but either way she was a child. Sansa probably said worse to Arya and Jon when she was her age. 

“Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly. But you refused the call. You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the call. And you, Lord Cerwyn, your father was skinned alive by Ramsay Bolton. Still you refuse the call. But House Mormont remembers. The North remembers.” Lyanna smirked at the men she was chastising. “House Mormont was slow to answer the call, that is true. But we did answer. We rode to battle against Ramsay Bolton right alongside Jon Snow and his men, and it was Sansa that delivered us with the Valemen.”  
Here there arose a great cheer and people clapped and stamped their feet. Sansa blushed. Once, she would have craved this attention, all these men screaming her name, clapping for her, but now all that this achieved was make her uncomfortable. She had survived for so long by living in the shadows, it was strange being out in the light.  
“Had it not been for Lady Stark’s”, here Lyanna smiled at Sansa, an apology for her snide remarks over Sansa's name, “foresight in alerting the Vale to our need, had she not persuaded Lord Robin to aid us, we would all have perished, and the North with us. The North knows no queen but the Queen in the North, whose name is Stark.”  
Sansa sats, frozen in surprise. She? Be Queen in the North? Rickon was heir, not her.  
“I don't care if she's a woman, she is the trueborn daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. I don't care of she's not the heir, she is the eldest daughter and it was her that delivered us today, not Jon Snow and not Rickon. She's my queen from this day until her last day.” Lyanna sat down, satisfied with her little speech. (She'd been quite nervous, she'd practiced it for hours while the dead were buried and the wounded tended to.)  
Sansa sat up, ready to decline, to say she couldn't possibly be queen, but it seemed the talking wasn't done yet.  
Lord Manderly stood up and in his gruff agreed with Lyanna: “Lady Mormont speaks harshly and truly. My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. I didn’t think we’d find another king in my lifetime. It seems I haven't, I've found a queen. I didn’t commit my men to your cause ‘cause I didn’t want more Manderlys dying for nothing. But I was wrong. Sansa Stark avenged the Red Wedding. She is the Red Wolf. The Queen in the North!” He drew his sword and knelt in allegiance.  
Lord Glover stood up then and said in shame: “I did not fight beside you on the field and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness.” Sansa found her voice and answered: “You were afraid, my Lord. I understand fear. Promise it will never happen again and all is forgiven.” 

“Thank you, my lady. There will be more fights to come. House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years. And I will stand behind Sansa Stark, the Queen in the North!” He too, drew his sword and knelt.  
Then he repeated, and all present, including Littlefinger, Sansa noted with suspicion, joined him: “The Queen in the North! The Queen in the North! The Queen in the North!”  
Sansa smiled, still in shock but happy, also. She had once thought to herself that if she were queen, she'd make the people love her, and now she would have that opportunity. As a little girl, she hadn't imagined becoming queen like this, much less queen on her own merit and not because she married a prince or a king.  
I suppose dreams do come true sometimes, she thought to herself. I'll make you proud, Robb. I'll be a good and fair queen, just like you.

After everyone had quieted, Jon walked in front of the table, drew Longclaw and knelt in front of Sansa. “Sansa, I know as your brother I need not say I will protect you with my dying breath, but as a soldier I repeat myself. I owe you my life, and I will repay that debt for as long as I live. I love you, and I will protect you from harm no matter where it comes from. You are my queen, from this day until your last.”  
Sansa, her mind made up about something she'd been thinking on since Lyanna proclaimed her to be her queen, stood. “My Lords, my Lady, I cannot tell you how grateful I am to be given this opportunity. I promise you all I will be a good and fair queen. I will do my best to be like Robb, only without his mistakes. And to make sure I will keep my promises, I will need a Hand to keep me accountable and to help shoulder my burdens. I will also require an heir. These are perilous times, as my brother keeps reminding us”, Jon huffed a quiet laugh, “and I don't know if I will survive the war to come. Jon Snow, arise.”

Jon stood up, confusion on his face. “Jon, my first act as queen will be to legitimize you. You have always been a part of our family, even if I didn't always show it as I should have. You have shown yourself to be a true Stark, and deserving of that name. As a Stark, I make you Lord of Winterfell and Rickon's protector. I appoint Rickon as my heir. Should anything befall me, Rickon will be King in the North and you will reign in his stead until he comes of age.”  
Jon bowed, the happiness on his face clear for all to see. “Thank you, your Grace. I- I don't know what to say.” He bowed once more and then sat back in his seat. Sansa squeezed his hand and smiled at him, before continuing her business.  
“Brienne of Tarth, please step forward”, she commanded. Brienne stepped tentatively forward, avoiding everyone's curious gazes. She kept her face fixed forward. She knelt and looked up. “Brienne, you have served my family faithfully for years. You have protected me, even when I didn't want you to”, a grateful smile on Sansa's side, a bashful one on Brienne's, “and you have fulfilled your oath to my mother the best you could. I trust you with my life, and I trust your counsel. Brienne, will you do me the honor of accepting the position of Hand of the Queen?”  
Brienne's wise, trusting face was wide open in shock. “I… Milady, your Grace, are you quite certain I'm right for this position?”  
“I am.”  
“Then I humbly accept. I will counsel you to the best of my knowledge and I will protect you and the people.” 

Sansa turned to the people, all the Lords and Ladies sitting in Winterfell's Great Hall. “Well, I suppose I'd best retire to my chambers with my Hand. We have a war to win.”


End file.
